Hell to Pay
by thewoofle
Summary: They're out of Tartarus. But they're shattered, afraid, and they're gonna need a lot of help to get back on their feet. Things are dangerous on the Argo II, and the Seven is Five. Percy and Annabeth are barely alive, skeletal ghouls that stagger their way through flashbacks and nightmares, and all the while they draw closer to Greece and the final desperate battle. Percabeth/Angst
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Here we have yet another post-Tartarus fic. Couldn't resist, sorry. I'm not too sure about the flow and quality of this story, it was cobbled together in bits and pieces at varying times. First chapter mostly in Hazel's POV, by the way. This picks up at the end of House of Hades. Assume all events past the escape/rescue have not happened.**

 **Please do leave feedback, good or bad - I appreciate it all! Here we go - I'll see you at the end.**

Percy and Annabeth come out of the doors like a couple of skeletons in skin.

That's her first impression, anyway, but she's quickly distracted by the arrival of the others, and the blazing fight against Clytius that follows. The House of Hades crumbles around them like a toppling card house, and there's no time to think.

They link hands like kindergarteners and she and Nico shadow-travel them out. She wonders for a second what it must have been like for Nico to be so close again to Tartarus.

And then Percy and Annabeth collapse like sock puppets onto the green grass. It looks like the colour has been leached from their skin. They are like - well, it's absurd, but she thinks of vegetables used to cook soup and then fished out.

She swears she heard their bones rattle.

Nico is still standing, eyes alight, and there is a glow to his alabaster skin that wasn't there before. He's holding his hands out in front of him, turning them over, like he cannot believe they are real. They do not shake.

"I've never felt more vital," he says, looking at her. There is life leaping in his eyes, such as she had never seen, and a tremulous almost-smile at the corner of his lips.

And then he sees Percy.

There is a silence- and then she sees as if in slow motion his knees crumple and thud to the ground, and his mouth open in a terrible agonized cry.

"No-!" cries Percy, and sucking in a breath, "not - your - fault - don't -" His mouth keeps moving, but there is no sound. There is a desperate and pleading look in his green eyes, straining in their sockets to meet Nico's. Her brother is himself strangely suspended, his knees on the ground but his body stretched out as if pulled to Percy.

Something passes between them, and Percy lets out a rattling sigh before his body loosens and relaxes against the hillside.

Nico slumps on his knees, hands clutching at the grass. His face is sharply cut, and the light falls and streaks down it like tears.

Still silence. Jason breaks it like a thunderclap, breaking from his still pose to run to the couple. They follow, dragged along like flotsam in his wake.

Piper falls to her knees beside Annabeth, a hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh, Annabeth," she whispers, horrified and terrified despite herself, her eyes tracing the tangled blonde hair and too-sharp cheekbones in her face.

Frank kneels and gently slides his arms under Annabeth, straightening up and looking to where Jason has lifted Percy. "Don't-!" she cries out suddenly, and then screams at the bright sunlight, grey eyes rolling in their sockets. She squeezes her eyes shut again and tries to curl up in on herself, shaking.

In any other scenario the scene would be funny; but now, as she looks at the faces of her fellow demigods, it is anything but. Percy and Annabeth are carried back to the ship, limbs sprawling every which way like twigs, escaping the confines of the arms that cradle them, heads lolling back on fragile necks. Their heartbeats pump and flicker under the delicate skin.

Nico watches them go with wounded eyes, but makes no move to follow. Go, the flicker of his hand says. Follow.

So she follows. Coach Hedge, for once, is silent as the heroes are borne on board with as much solemnity as a - don't think funeral, don't think - funeral.

Down to sickbay, and dark red dirt falls onto white sheets. Percy's eyes - green, so green, and so indescribably tired - flicker open and then shut again.

His finger insistently scratches out something against the sheets. Again, and again.

 _8 -_ no, _B - O -_ his finger swirls a lazy last letter and then stills. A low, soft groan with a last breath - Jason leans in close - "Da - ma - sen." His breath comes out in a soft puff before he falls asleep.

A name. Two names, maybe.

Nico will know.

xxx

Only Nico doesn't speak to anyone when he comes back. He goes straight to the sickbay with an intent look on his face and sits on a chair in the corner, daring anyone to come close. The rest of the Seven gathered in the mess hall, discussing what to do with the injured heroes.

It was decided, quickly, that they should not wake up alone, so she and Frank volunteer to take first watch, claiming that they, besides Annabeth and Nico, are the ones on the ship who have known Percy the longest. Jason and Piper head up to the deck, hands entwined, to help Leo get the ship airborne and keep it that way.

So she finds herself in sickbay, sitting next to Annabeth's limp body. Nico's face in the corner is draped in darkness, and she can only see the glint of the skull ring sitting on his finger. Frank sits across from her, next to Percy, large hands grasping one another.

They are an hour or two into their watch when Percy jerks in his bed like a hooked fish, thrashing and straining against invisible restraints. His eyes are rolling wildly in their sockets.

Nico dashes to his side faster than Hazel has ever seen him move, and she wonders at this boy she calls her brother, his pale fingers that tap surely on Percy's wrist, the confidence and quiet assurance that radiates from the last person she would expect it from, Nico of Hades who is fidgety and lean and angry.

But, she remembers, he has known Percy a very long time now.

Nico waves Frank off and moves his hands to Percy's shoulders, fingers digging in between the bones and lost muscle. He holds the boy firmly, rattles him, and says forcefully, "Wake up!"

Percy jolts awake startlingly and intimidatingly quickly, a hand leaping to Nico's arm and digging crescent marks into it. The other one seeks out the thin column of Nico's throat and finds it, holding there as a threat.

Nico swallows. His throat bobs under Percy's grimy fingers. "It's me," he says quietly. "Nico." He pauses, closes his eyes. "Nico di-"

"Angelo."

Percy speaks as if rushed, the word falling off his tongue like water and relief. His hands loosen their murderous holds, but remain on the skin, pressing lightly, as if to make sure Nico is really there.

"Nico di Angelo," he gasps. "I _know_ you. Nico di Angelo, brother to Bianca, king of ghosts, blood and brother of Olympus _I know you."_

"Hello, Percy," says Nico, and despite the easy words there are a thousand emotions jagged and turbulent in his voice. She hears them, and she knows Frank hears them, too.

"It's too bright," says Percy very softly, as though he must say it even though he does not want to trouble them. His hand drops from Nico's throat and curls on the bedsheets.

Percy closes his eyes but is clearly very much awake, and it seems he is struggling with something he wants - needs - to say. Finally he draws in a deep breath and begins-

"Nico, they're dead."

There is very much raw pain in his voice. This is a burden from Tartarus he will carry till the end of his days and he will never escape the yoke of its guilt. Nico is standing very still as if he dreads what is coming.

Percy continues, relentless, confessing. Something so important he would cling to consciousness to tell Nico, a few hours only out of Tartarus.

"Bob and Damasen - to get us out - they're dead, Nico, and it's my fault."

Her brother does not know what to say, she thinks, watching his still figure. She feels as if she and Frank are latecomers to a play that has been years ongoing and they do not know the characters.

 _Leave_ , screams Nico's stiff shoulders, the uncomfortably craned line of his neck.

She paces out the door quietly, collecting Frank along the way, and they shut the door to sickbay and just look at each other for a long time.

The last thing she hears from inside the room is _"Tell me how they died,"_ from Nico, and Percy's voice lifting as he begins to tell the tale of those who must be the heroes of Tartarus.

xxx

Piper and Jason are talking in the hallway, heads close, and Hazel wishes she could feel guilty about interrupting them.

Jason looks up first, blond hair shadowed in the dim light. He speaks before she can.

"Are they alright?"

She is not sure whether to laugh or cry at that, after what she has just seen.

"Percy woke up," she says. And before Jason can turn for the sickbay, she continues, "and he named Nico and he said - he said, 'It's too bright.'"

Those are the only words that will fall from her mouth. They seem very important, somehow, and she just stares at Jason and Piper, willing them to understand. And they do.

"Gods," says Jason softly, running a hand through his hair. "What did they have to go through in Tartarus?"

None of them have an answer for that.

xxx

It's Piper on watch later that night. She turns the lights off so that they can sleep. None of them knows what fully transpired between Nico and Percy, save that Percy was sleeping once more and Nico had gone back to his room, looking weary and haunted and horribly, horribly sad.

Jason has gone to the toilet. It is quiet and dark and almost peaceful in the room.

And Annabeth screams.

It is as bright and loud as a shattering of glass, and as jagged. It rips and tears its way through the ship and on his own bed Percy sits up, dim light spilling down the bony lines of his face. He is vaulting out of bed but becomes tangled in the blanket and bedsheets, his mouth open in a soundless scream as he scrabbles desperately towards Annabeth.

Piper throws herself on Annabeth, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Wake up," she pleads. "Annabeth, it's just a dream, _wake up."_

Annabeth screams and screams, pure _terror_ , and the tears drip unceasing from Piper's eyes. Annabeth is twisting in her grip, her grey eyes wide in madness and fright. She does not know Piper.

Beyond the door she hears the pounding of footsteps, no doubt the other demigods on their way. Percy on the floor is trapped in his blankets, but he grows more and more agitated with every scream until with a _roar_ he -

\- _rips_ his way out of the cloths like a bull -

\- and launches himself at Annabeth, pulling her to him in a hard embrace. Piper pulls out of the way just in time, and is left staring over their backs at the shredded linens on the floor.

Percy should not have strength enough to do that.

In Percy's arms Annabeth has stopped screaming but she is clasping tightly the clothes on Percy's back, and shaking and shaking like she will never stop.

The demigods of the ship burst in, and blindly Percy's head comes up, snarling. He looks very wild and _very_ angry.

Slowly and as one they back away, Piper among them, until they are out of the sickbay and the door is firmly shut between the very feral Percy and the girl he will die to protect.

Jason, who must have come running from the toilet, puts a comforting arm around Piper's waist.

But he does not say anything. None of them do. None of them knows how.

xxx

It is the next morning. Leo spent the night making a little remote control robot which he sends into the sickbay with a tray of food.

He puts up the feed from the security camera onto one of the dining hall screens and the demigods watch the couple from there, none of them feeling quite brave enough to venture into the actual room.

Percy and Annabeth are together, crammed tightly onto one bed. None of them have woken up yet. The cloth from Percy's blankets lies in tatters on the floor. She's still sort of in awe of that.

Percy and Annabeth have forsaken the blankets and without the cloth covering them she can easily see the bones pressing against their skin. Their skin is still covered in dirt from Tartarus, and what is most likely dried blood. Monster dust has settled like glitter in their hair.

Jason, standing nearest the screen, says abruptly, "We're understaffed."

He looks around at them and continues, "I don't want to be the one to say it, but we all know it's true. Percy and Annabeth were our best fighters, and now they're, ah, indisposed. We need help."

Leo sits down hard on one of the chairs, his hands twisting and coiling a piece of metal wire.

"Who?" he asks, "The Olympians are ah, _indisposed_ ," - it takes her a moment to realize he's imitating Jason - "and nobody from Camp - either Camp - can get here."

Nico steps forward into the light. He looks like he has not slept at all, but - well - that is normal for Nico.

"I contacted some of Percy's old friends," he says. "Most of them can't get away from where they are now, but Thalia has asked for Lady Artemis' blessing to join us here. Regardless of duty, Percy and Annabeth are two of her oldest friends."

Jason's ice-blue eyes snap to Nico at the mention of Thalia. "She would not leave her Hunters."

Nico's eyes are far away, lost in memory. They refocus on the room when Jason speaks. "She would not, at first. The Hunters are needed where they are, killing monsters. But her lieutenant spoke to her. A small team, led by Thalia… the Seven are a small force, going to fight giants. Now you are five. Does that put it into perspective? Thalia will come, and she will bring help."

For the first time in too long, some of the worry leaves Jason's eyes. "Thank you," he says, and if relief is a little too evident in his voice, nobody comments on it.

Nico inclines his head. Leo steers the conversation towards junk food, rustling up another pack of - what were those, Fonzas? - Fonzies and throwing it at Jason, laughing when it falls to the floor.

Hazel steps back, hands upraised to ward off any incoming Fonzies, and retreats to the corner to dwell on what she has just heard.

 _Thalia Grace._ Jason's sister, leader of the Hunters. She does not know much about Thalia. But she trusts Nico, and if he thinks Thalia can help Percy and Annabeth, she will follow his lead.

xxx

It's reminiscent of when they sat on the roof of Pluto's temple, back in Camp Jupiter. Nico has brought them up to the crow's nest, and they sit side by side, legs dangling over the wooden flooring. He taps his fingers on the handrail and speaks, looking straight ahead towards the horizon.

"Thalia was one of the first demigods I met." She jerks where she is sitting, surprised, and looks at him. Nico is still gazing forward. His dark eyes are seeing a past she is not part of.

"I don't know what to tell you about her," he says, unhappily, and hmms, hesitating. "It's not my story to tell, most of it. But you can know that she is brave, and strong, and a very capable leader. I hope she and Jason do not come to blows. She is one of Annabeth's oldest friends. She is protective of her, and loves her like a sister. Annabeth will need her, I think, in the days to come. And Percy, he will lean on her strength, and together she and I can pull them out of Tartarus and set them back on their feet."

Her brother stops, as if realizing he's said more than he meant to. But he just sighs, heavily, and she catches the words he lets fall into the wind.

He whispers, " _I cannot do this alone."_

xxx

They spend five days in a state of high excitement. Leo puts in at a port somewhere - honestly, she's lost track, but Nico said Thalia would meet them here - and the Argo II bobs up and down in the bay like an oversized yellow rubber duckie.

Percy and Annabeth make it up to the main deck on their second day, their arms around each others' waists. It's not quite clear who is supporting the other. Annabeth is holding a dagger in her shaking hands. Percy has Riptide uncapped. Teeth gritted, they stagger and hobble their way to the railings and lean there, gazing at the seawater like they cannot believe their eyes.

Percy raises a hand and holds it parallel to the water. It mimics him, rising in a great imprint of a hand and upsetting the balance of the ship. Leo, lying in a hammock in front of his control panel, tumbles out and thumps against the floorboards.

"Hey!" he shouts, scrambling up. "What was-" he catches sight of the couple "-Percy!" And then Leo realizes that they're out of bed and calls, "Good to see you out and about!"

But remembering, perhaps, what Percy did to Nico, he stays his distance. His expression speaks clearly even from where he stands, though, with worry and doubt creating a combination that Percy reads as _should you be out of the sickbay?_

Percy flashes him a thumbs-up and turns back to the water, watching all manner of marine life come to the surface to see the son of Poseidon. Annabeth stands next to him, a smile playing on her lips as she watches her boyfriend.

But they don't stand there long, instead retreating back to the shade and quiet of the decks below. Annabeth lingers longest, her eyes fixated on the blue sky. Percy waits patiently, and finally she turns back to him and they go down the stairs hand in hand.

It was, Hazel reflects later, a good day for them.

The next day, Jason receives an Iris-message from Thalia, saying that the Hunters would be delayed. There were reports of a monster or two harassing a nearby town; they would take care of it and be on their way. She watches Jason nod, wish his sister good luck.

Jason grows more and more agitated, taking to striding across the deck and practicing by himself in the sparring rooms until Piper drags him back to his room to sleep.

Thalia arrives on the fifth day with four other Hunters, waving to them from the docks. They are picked up promptly, and Hazel watches as they board.

They look like teenage girls, these maidens of Artemis. They wear silver and grey and black, practical clothing, and they carry heavy packs with ease.

Hazel has seen photos of this legendary daughter of Zeus. Thalia is tall, and carries herself regally. On her brow is set a shining silver circlet. Her hair is black and spiky, her eyes brilliant and piercing blue. But most impressive is how she commands her Hunters, with ease and authority. They fan out behind her and let her approach first.

"Jason," she says, as if tasting his name on her lips. Jason rushes forward and embraces her, and she hugs him back fiercely. The Hunters behind her watch warily, skilled hands set on bows or daggers.

Thalia pulls back after a short moment, though, her expression grim. "Where are they?" she asks.

Jason shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable, and says, "They're in the stables, I think. There's glass on the bottom, bay doors, and they spent a night there some time before they... fell."

Thalia raises an eyebrow, imperious, and it is a very short moment before Jason realizes he's meant to lead the way. He heads down the stairs. Thalia follows, and the Hunters fall into line behind her. Hazel and the others on deck bring up the rear, all drawn to the Hunters despite themselves in curiousity.

Nico is waiting outside the entrance to the stables. He looks up at their approach, and his mouth falls open at the sight of Thalia. It is not shock so much as seeing an old friend in the flesh again, and remembering all the things they have been through together.

She is reminded suddenly, again, of all that Nico has experienced that she is not privy to, all he has done before meeting her.

Thalia has frozen likewise, coming to a sudden stop. Her eyes run over Nico, and Hazel wonders what she is seeing and thinking. She comes forward, shaking her head as if to throw off memories that circle like flies, and grasps Nico's hand before pulling him into a hug.

"It's been a long time," she says, the words muffled against Nico's shoulder.

Nico does not reply, but Thalia does not seem to take offense. Instead she separates from him, and looks to the closed stable door.

"They're in there?" she asks, quiet. Her face cracks a little, worry seeping through. Nico nods.

Thalia looks at her Hunters before taking a deep breath and stripping off her weapons. Her bow and quiver of arrows are set gently against the wall, her pack beside it. She keeps a hunting knife and a Mace can - Hazel is a little confused by that one, she'll admit - and nods to them all.

"My lady," pleads one of the Hunters suddenly, "are you sure you will go in alone?"

Thalia's fierce expression softens somewhat, and she puts a reassuring hand on the Hunter's shoulder.

"They won't hurt me," she says gently. She turns, and sets her hand on the doorknob. Jason strains forward as if seeing her enter the room is physically painful for him. Then she slips inside, the door closing with a gentle click, and is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm going to pretend that Tartarus was a lot worse than it was, mainly because I think it should have been a lot worse than it was. I'm sorry, but I think the Labyrinth scared me more than Tartarus. But then again, I read Battle of the Labyrinth a very long time ago.**

 **Please note that unless otherwise stated, Reyna stayed with her Romans. I repeat, she** _ **did not cross to the ancient lands to join the Seven.**_

 **This chapter includes: some quotes from The Last Olympian, and my attempt at formal language. Thanks for sticking around!**

xxx

Thalia closes the door behind her, ready for anything, and scans the room for signs of life.

She sees them both at the same time. Percy is sat against one of the stall doors, Annabeth's head resting on his shoulder. A blanket is draped across their laps.

She has to bite back a cry. They are asleep, she reminds herself. She tiptoes closer, and does what Artemis has always bid the Hunters do: _observe,_ before acting.

The two are clean, obviously having showered and changed into new clothes, but all it does is highlight what they've lost. Annabeth's skin is pale, and her hair hangs limp and brittle, the gold seeming faded in the dark. The orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt she wears looks new and garish against her crumpled figure. Thalia feels like she wants to cry when she sees the way Annabeth's hand has crept to her weapon even in sleep, how she has drawn her legs closer to her body for warmth.

Percy beside her is sleeping with his mouth open. Such a Percy thing to do. It is good to know some things have not changed. But she notes the way he has positioned himself, so that he is between Annabeth and anything that may come for them. He too is wearing a new shirt, a purple one that is a little too big for him. It has slipped off one shoulder, and beneath it she can see his skin hanging over bone, hollow spaces where the muscle has been lost. In other places, muscle is all she can see, wiry strength curling over bones and under skin. Riptide hangs loose from a slack hand.

She exhales through her nose, softly, and sits down cross-legged to wait.

xxx

Annabeth wakes first, and her dagger is in her hand as soon as she spots Thalia. For a sickening moment, Annabeth does not recognize her. The look on her face is fearsome, absolutely merciless, cold and calculating. It is by sheer force of will that Thalia stops herself from activating her spear and shield.

Then Annabeth stops. She freezes, still as a statue, and peers at Thalia's face. Thalia waits, watching, as Annabeth's gray eyes trace her choppy black hair, her eyes, the circlet that marks her as Artemis' lieutenant. She waits for the recognition to light in Annabeth's eyes, and sees only doubt and fear.

She feels it stab into her like the bronze point of a spear, twisting and burning her insides. This is _Annabeth_ , who has always trusted her, who she has loved like a sister. She would _die_ for Annabeth, and this girl she loves so fiercely does not know her.

"You're not Thalia," comes the voice from the shadows. Annabeth curls into herself, retreating, and Thalia remembers a small girl in a dead-end alley, a hammer clutched tightly in her hand.

" _What's your name, kiddo?"_

" _Annabeth."_

A name for a fighter, she remembered thinking.

Thalia pulls off her circlet, ruffling her hair to push it back into place. She sets it to the side, and leans back against the wall behind her, feigning a casualness she does not feel. She feels like something is screaming deep inside her, howling with loss and grief and rage.

"I _am_ Thalia. You know me, Annabeth," she pleads, keeping her hands open and spread in front of her. But Annabeth shakes her head, her eyes wild, and does not let go of her dagger.

"You left," she whispers. "You're not Thalia. Thalia wouldn't have left _. Not for them._ " A sob breaks from her; Thalia sees the shine of tears in the dark, forces herself to watch and not move as a glistening drop carves its way down Annabeth's cheek.

"And Thalia is _dead!"_ screams Annabeth, the tears flooding from her eyes as she gasps for air, doubling over brokenly, heartbroken sounds ripping from her throat.

It breaks her: Thalia lunges forward, her own eyes filling, trying desperately to reach Annabeth. She can't _stand_ to see Annabeth like this, so lost and afraid, and she wishes she had dropped into Tartarus instead.

But she finds herself stopped by an upraised blade, bronze and sharp, and green eyes shining like hateful stars in the dark.

"Go away," says Percy, and his sword hand is steady. His voice is like steel, firm and unyielding, and inside she mourns for another friend who does not know her.

"You know me," she repeats, her eyes searching Percy's sea-green depths. "I'm Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus, I joined the Hunters." Then, because he does not move, she adds, "Annabeth said we were too alike. We went to free her and Artemis from Atlas-" nothing in him changes, and she begins to speak louder, faster, anything to break through that numb shell - "you called me _Pinecone Face,_ I zapped you in the chest once. I was a goddamn _PINE TREE_ , Percy, how could you remember _Nico_ _and not me?!"_

Tears choke her throat and fill her eyes as she screams at him. And then suddenly Annabeth is there, flying past him to tackle her, smashing into her and pinning her to the ground.

She won't fight Annabeth, she thinks, even as the dagger presses into the skin of her neck. She can't.

"Thalia is _dead!_ " screams Annabeth again, raw pain and fury in her voice, and the blade digs deeper. "You _can't be Thalia!"_

And because this is the end of the line, she is pinned and there is a knife held to her throat by the last person she would ever expect it from, Thalia offers up the last thing she has.

"We were a family, once," she breathes, holding Annabeth's grey eyes. Those storm-cloud eyes, so beautiful and wise, so familiar. Thalia thinks that if she has to die, there is no higher cause she would rather die serving. It is not so bad that she has died, if it means that she has tried to save her friend. There is nobody else she would let kill her.

"You and me and Luke, us three against the world," she whispers. It is strangely intimate, with Annabeth's face so close to hers. She can feel her breath against her skin, watch her golden hair fall like a curtain around their heads.

She closes her eyes and waits -

xxx

Annabeth blinks. And blinks again. Something breaks, cracks, snaps inside her, and her humanity spills out like ink.

Annabeth looks down sharply at Thalia as if seeing another person. Thalia's eyes are closed, the curve of her neck exposed to Annabeth's knife.

 _We were a family, once._

Annabeth looks at her - really looks at her, sees the puffy eyes and the tears still tracing their way down her cheeks, reads the agony and acceptance on her face.

She scrambles away, back and back, until she hits Percy's solid body behind her. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He himself is watching Thalia like a hawk, as if unable to believe that she is real.

On the floor, Thalia smiles sadly and props herself up with an elbow.

"I'm sorry," Annabeth whispers, the words stretching across the distance like gossamer threads over the black pit of her actions. She can still see in her mind's eye the way she had pinned Thalia, thrown her to the ground and put a knife to her throat.

Worse still, the way Thalia hadn't fought back. Not once.

Thalia rises smoothly to her feet. "There is nothing to forgive."

Annabeth crumples into Percy's arms. Of _course_ she would say that. Thalia, who loves her far more than she deserves, who would let herself be killed without struggling once, for Annabeth's sake. How can she stand there and look at Annabeth without anger, without fear, without the pain of betrayal on her fair face?

Percy speaks over her head to Thalia. It kills her to hear the way he shapes his words, cautiously and slowly, like he is not sure if they will bring pain. It is Tartarus that has done this to them, made them so distrustful and wary.

"How is it," he says, pausing to test the weight of his words, "that you can be here?"

"I came to help," Thalia says. A funny half-smile twists her lips. "You and Annabeth are my friends."

Percy looks at Thalia but not quite _at_ Thalia, and Annabeth knows he is remembering the horrible lonely days in the pit, when all they had was each other and they thought they'd be alone for the rest of their lives. When they thought they'd been abandoned, that they'd signed their own death warrant by jumping.

Thalia edges closer. Eight steps away now, seven. Her Mace can and circlet lie on the ground behind her. As she approaches, she removes her hunting knife and lays that on the ground too.

Five, four steps. Her eyes meet Annabeth's, a kind of challenge in their depths. Three steps. Two. Percy flinches. Thalia stops.

They're close enough now that Annabeth can reach out and touch her. Thalia has not changed. Her top is grey, ripped at the sleeves. It reads _I WILL DANCE ON YOUR PYRE_. Mild, by Thalia standards.

Annabeth brushes her fingers over the fabric, touches the faded letters. She keeps her head down, unwilling to meet Thalia's eyes. It's then that her eyes catch on the empty sheath at Thalia's hip, and the words that come out of her mouth are both sudden and completely unexpected.

"Can I have your knife?" she blurts. Her cheeks flush red. She touches the dagger at her waist, feeling the need to explain.

"It's not - it's not Luke's dagger, this one. I lost that. It... dropped." She feels foolish, stammering out explanations like this. But she babbles on anyway, shoulders slumping at the guilt she feels whenever she thinks of the knife she used for so many years. "I have a sword-" her eyes flash to it, white drakon bone propped up against wood "-but I - gods, it's not the same, you know, and I - I feel lost without my old knife."

The stream of words just goes on and on. She feels young and stupid but she can't stop because she needs Thalia to understand. "And I can't just replace it, every time I use this one it feels so wrong in my hand, like I'm betraying _him_ by using it, I can't just replace something so important like that."

Sometime during her rambling Thalia had reached for her - or maybe it was the other way around, Annabeth seeking blind comfort, and now she finds herself in the warm circle of Thalia's arms, her tears falling onto Thalia's shoulder as the Hunter makes soft hushing sounds, her hand stroking Annabeth's hair.

"I understand," Thalia says softly. "Of course you can have it."

Their embrace wakes something old in Annabeth, the part of her that has spent a very long time shoved down under the weight of being _responsible_ and _a leader._ The part of Annabeth that doesn't mind leaning on others, the part that wants nothing more than a mother.

She lets Thalia support her and doesn't care. She can be weak just this once. _Gods_ , she's spent too long being strong.

xxx

How long had it been since anyone other than Percy had held her like this?

Thalia knows Annabeth too well, knows she would retreat behind blueprints and schedules and make herself busy, cover up and muffle the whisper of what she would see as a vulnerability inside her.

Annabeth has a fatal flaw, and it is pride.

Percy meets her eyes. His green eyes convey gratitude, relief, a silent _thank you_ for the support she is giving Annabeth.

Thalia just nods, her throat tight. How many years has it been since Annabeth has thrown herself into Thalia's arms, let Thalia carry her on her shoulder?

She'd been seven when they found her, and _too big, thank you very much_ , to be carried like a _baby_. Thalia deduced that she had younger siblings at home and that they were particularly annoying.

Still, she would let Luke carry her after a long day of walking, or when she was tired after a fight. Thalia suspected that Luke had been just as tired, if not more, but he had never been able to resist Annabeth.

But Luke isn't here now, hasn't been there for both of them in too long a time, so Thalia holds Annabeth tight and tries not to feel like she's the second choice.

Percy leans against the wall and watches them. She likes how he lets them be, doesn't intrude on their private moment. But Percy has always been smarter than Annabeth ever gave him credit for, and he knows that _this_ is for them, for the two girls who knew each other long before he came stumbling into Camp Half-Blood.

Thalia looks down at the mess of Annabeth's blond curls. "Take the knife, if you want it. Claim the blade yourself." Her voice is a murmur, a breath; it stirs Annabeth's curls. It is a challenge, and Annabeth rises to meet it.

Thalia watches Annabeth cross the distance to the blade, and feels only pride. The daughter of Athena hefts the knife, flips it in her hands, watches the way the light gilds the edge of the blade. When she looks back at Thalia, her grey eyes are steadier, clearer. Like holding the knife has grounded her, given her an anchor. _Thank you,_ her eyes say. _Thank you._

Thalia watches her and thinks, this can be the start to a new life. You will rise from the ashes, you will rebuild, you will find your footing again and _I will be with you every step of the way_ , as I should have been when you were little. Please _forgive me._

Annabeth unsheathes her old knife and balances the two blades in her hands. Then she moves to stand in front of Thalia and extends the blade, hilt first, with the keen edge of the knife resting against her forearm. Thalia stares at it in confusion until Annabeth speaks.

"Daughter of Zeus who gathers the clouds, in exchange for your blade, do you take mine in equal exchange, that the weapon of the other may guard the bearer's flesh in battle."

And that's when she understands. Annabeth has named her by the old ways, by her lineage, by the name and title of her father. Annabeth has set out their terms as formally as she can, to call the gods to bear witness, that all may know of the trust and respect between the daughter of Zeus and the daughter of Athena.

So she replies, reaching out and taking the bronze knife, and saying, "Daughter of Pallas Athena the gray-eyed, I accept your blade, and my heart is made glad by your generous gift. As when the waves on steep cliffs shatter into bright foam, shining, and thunder with the rage of Poseidon the earth-shaker, so I hope that your enemies will fall back before your fury and your upheld blade, and let no man say that the daughter of Pallas Athena held back from the fighting, nor that any other was foremost in the art of knife-fighting."

The words are as Artemis taught her, explosive and lively, bursting with colour and shameless flattery. At least, she hopes they are. Thalia is glad she hasn't lost all skill at improvisation.

Annabeth, who has no doubt read the Iliad and scraped through countless passages of flowery speech, looks nonetheless rather impressed by Thalia's words.

A crackly rumble rocks the ship, like Zeus himself is expressing satisfaction. Thalia has no idea how her godly father isn't dramatically clutching the sides of his head and shrieking about Jupiter, but she'll take it.

"Come," she says. "Let's talk, shall we?"

They sit down, pulling Percy into their little circle, and Thalia starts first, trying to fill the conversation with light topics. She's rewarded with a relieved look that enters their eyes, and the atmosphere which turns more relaxed as time passes.

Thalia learns that the Athena Parthenos, which previously had been crammed into the space where they were sitting now, had been shrunk down to a human-sized effigy that was then promptly stuffed into one of the empty stalls. It had been accomplished, apparently, with the aid of several burrito-and-bacon sacrifices to Athena and Hephaestus.

Annabeth then demands to know how Thalia had reached the Argo II so quickly. So Thalia relates how, with Artemis' blessing, they'd traveled through her ancient temples, using them like gateways over the sea and across thousands of miles of land. It had been risky, she admits, traveling so far and so fast, to temples that may or may not have been secure, but it was also a trial for future Hunter methods of transport.

 _And it was necessary,_ is what she doesn't say, and _I would do it again._

Annabeth reads it in her eyes anyway, along with a silent and stubborn refusal to apologize. "Thalia," she murmurs, a gentle rebuke and an expression of gratitude all at once.

They spend the day in the stables, talking and looking out the bay doors, or reminiscing about their times together. They lie flat on the bay doors and watch the scenery go by. Thalia gets to see the Athena Parthenos. It glares at her with a cobweb hanging from an arched eyebrow.

When the dinner bell rings through the ship they all jump, startled. Thalia runs a hand through her hair and stands, shocked to realize how close they'd all been sitting. The air is cold on her face, and fresh, not warmed with friendship and close bodies like it had been a moment before.

She stretches, and walks away to retrieve her circlet, asking over her shoulder, "You coming?'

No response comes, and Thalia turns, frowning. Annabeth bites her lip and seems to be on the verge of saying something when they're all distracted by a knock on the door.

The curly-headed Leo Valdez opens the door without waiting for a reply but doesn't come in, leaning against the doorjamb. His face lights up when he sees Thalia.

"Good, you're alive!" he exclaims. "Dinner's ready in the dining hall." She wants to snap at him, but she catches the look in his eyes. The look that hides _come quietly, please_ under a disarming smile of brilliant white teeth. The tiny flicker of fear deep in his eyes when he looks at Percy and Annabeth.

She turns to him, settling her circlet on her head once more, and follows him out of the stables. Behind her, Percy and Annabeth are silent.

xxx

The son of Hephaestus starts talking almost as soon as the door closes behind them. He's the sort to fill any kind of silence with chatter, she muses. He reminds her of a younger Percy.

She lets him ramble on while she gets her thoughts in order, and then whirls on him when he least expects it.

"What was that, in there?" she demands, and stops walking, forcing him to stop too. She clarifies, "Why aren't they coming with us?"

Leo Valdez looks uncomfortable, and shifts from foot to foot in the hallway. "Tell me," she snaps, impatient and commanding, and the demigod caves.

"The first time we all ate together after they came out of Tartarus, Percy snapped. Something in the - I don't know - the food, maybe, or something someone said," - there's something trying very hard to be humour in his eyes, but they're screaming concern and anguish. "He lost it, he went for Frank's throat. Man would've died if he didn't have quick thinking and the ability to shift."

There's the fear again - the quick flash of it in his eyes. Thalia can't find it in herself to blame him. Anyone with half a brain cell would be afraid, and at least he's honest about it.

She turns away, and motions for Leo to lead the way to dinner, trying to ignore the bone-deep weariness and wordless sorrow spreading inside her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Heh, owe you guys this chapter after so long. Definitely appreciate all the support!**

Thalia grunts as she shoves the last mat into place. The stables, she's discovered, are the only place in the Argo II that is flat and open and suitable for the type of sparring she has in mind. She doesn't know why they built a warship without a training room or any sort of training schedule. Fighting monsters is fine until you discover they're better than you. Too many demigods have died that way, trapped by their own confidence, and she's not in the mood to lose any more friends.

Eventually, she'll spar with them on the upper deck as well, and through the ship's corridors. The stairs will be trickier, but they'll master it, even those who don't really want to.

A knock on the door sounds and Nico di Angelo enters without waiting for her answer, cocking an interested eye at the newly padded floor. As instructed, he's brought his sword, but she notes that he's neglected to bring a shield with him.

It's the first time she's been alone with Nico in a very long time. She studies him critically, looking over the stubble on his jaw, the rumpled t-shirt, the laces twisted firmly on the sports shoes. Nico's double-knotted his shoes.

She feels inexplicably happy about that. Someone's got some sense on this ship, at least.

Nico's grown since she last saw him - the only way she's ever seen him grow, straight up. He's taller and stronger and not really paler, because not even Nico di Angelo can keep pushing human limits of paleness.

"So," she says. "How are you?"

The question closes Nico down, as expected. She'd been surprised when he'd been the one to contact her, his gaunt face seeming to leach away some of the colour in the Iris-message rainbow. _Percy and Annabeth need you,_ he'd said. _They're out of Tartarus, but they've still got a way to fall._

At the time she'd wondered about his odd choice of words: falling out of Tartarus. But now she's here she can see the truth of his words: Percy and Annabeth are still falling, and someone is needed to catch them.

But Nico had skipped over the other details: that he'd fallen into Tartarus too, alone; that he'd been captured; that he'd been counting down the days in that little bronze jar, the red pomegranate seeds black as death in the dark.

"I thought we were here to fight," he says instead, but doesn't draw his sword. Thalia considers it. It will be a challenge, certainly, fighting Nico. No one knows the true extent of his powers, or skill with a sword. And she has to admit that something thrills in her at the thought of fighting with spear and shield again. The Hunters depended primarily on their bows and arrows; it gave a bit of distance to the truth of murder.

So. "We are," she agrees, and shakes her Mace can out into a spear. The _aegis_ roars out of the silver bracelet at her wrist, solid and reassuringly heavy.

Nico sheds his jacket and slips his sword from its sheath, the metal barely making a whisper. The Stygian iron is wickedly sharp, as always, and his hands settle into a familiar grip on the hilt.

"No shield, di Angelo?" she asks, and he shakes his head.

"How often do we get shields in battle?" he asks. He flicks a lock of black hair out of his eyes and focuses on her. "No. I'm ready."

 _As you wish,_ she thinks, and begins.

They come together with a mighty crash, Nico reaching her with a deadly intent expression on his face. He's fast, impressively so, and he smashes aside her spear and slams his sword arm against her shield. She takes it at an angle and uses his momentum to her advantage, dancing to the side and forcing him to pivot to face her, almost too late to avoid her jab at his side.

She sends the spear darting towards his face, but he ducks and takes two quick steps towards her, closing the distance. She catches his downward blow on her shield, pushes the blade to the side, steps forward and launches a kick at his knee.

He hops back to avoid it, which gives her enough time to regain her balance, and she brings the spear back to hover between them. Nico - well, he's not smiling, but his eyes have a fierce, wildly triumphant gleam in them that makes Thalia think he might be enjoying this more than he lets on.

"Come on, di Angelo," she taunts, finding herself grinning, and with a shake of his head Nico plunges back in.

She keeps her distance this time, using the spear for attacks and the speed of her feet for defense. For a time, she holds Nico at bay, the demigod dodging her attacks on the balls of his feet, and she watches as a frown of concentration forms a furrow on his brow.

He begins to retreat from her spear, letting her attacks drive him back. Curious, she lets him draw her after him as he backs towards the stable door. A few meters from it, he pauses as if to brace himself, and then turns and runs flat-out for the door, hand stretched out in front of him to hit -

Her spear is an inch from his back when the palm of his hand connects with the light switch and the stables are plunged into complete darkness. She lunges with the spear anyway, but hits nothing.

Nico's voice comes from the opposite corner of the room. "Bet you didn't see that coming, Grace,"

Automatically, she snaps back, "Don't call me that." She closes her eyes, focuses her other senses. _Shadow travel._ How to defend against one who can practically teleport?

The answer comes to her almost immediately. _Take away the shadows._

She stands still in the centre of the room, focusing on the energy gathering inside of her. It feels dry; disconnected; separate and yet innately bound to her. Nico's voice bounces from corner to corner as he experiments with his shadow travel, trying to find her. She collapses both her spear and shield and then unsheathes a short knife.

Raising her voice, she says, "It's not a large space, you know," mocking him gently, and then takes a silent step to the left.

Not a second later, she senses Nico's appearance where she was just standing. In a flash, she has an arm around his throat and a knife at his ribs.

Nico huffs out a breath. His hand comes up to wrap around Thalia's blade and before she knows it he's gone again, letting out a sudden laugh from the other end of the room.

It doesn't matter. She's about to pull enough power that the one knife he's taken won't make a difference. Thalia throws her arms wide and _rips_ the electricity in the ship to her. She hears the sudden silence as the lights' humming goes out, followed by shouts of confusion. The ship begins to drop in the sky. The delicious dry tingling of the energy fills her, coursing through her veins and in her heart, bringing her to a dangerous level of giddiness as she sees the amount of raw energy she holds at her fingertips.

But she doesn't need that much. She forces herself to be logical, releasing some of the energy back to the ship's engine, and stepping back from the tempting precipice of ambition. _Luke, remember Luke._

She raises a hand with a yell, and lightning blazes out, brilliant white-blue and crackling towards the ceiling. In the harsh, searing light, she sees Nico, shielding his eyes with one hand. There are no more shadows.

She throws her arm forward, palm towards Nico, and sees that the veins in the back of her hand are bulging with a white-blue current. Teeth clenched, she forces her hand to remain steady, and focuses her will on making the lightning split apart before it hits the son of Hades. Powerful as it is, she still makes it bend to her will, and it tears apart jaggedly, branches of it slamming into the floor mats in a rough circle around Nico.

Without even thinking about it, Thalia throws her other hand out to the side, and sets electricity back to flowing in the lights above them. Then she redirects the electricity still pulsing through her body back to the ship, hearing the hum of lights turning back on and the whirring of the mechanical oars get more steady. More shouts of confusion ensue. She lets the last of the energy stream back into the system and dissipates Nico's lightning cage.

Abruptly exhausted, she falls to her knees. Nico sits up, blinking furiously, and mutters, "I think you've damaged my eyesight permanently."

"More than likely," Thalia allows. "We'll get you some ambrosia in a minute." _When my head isn't spinning so much._

Nico makes an agreeable _mhmm_ sound. They lie on the mats, both trying to regain their breath. After a minute, Nico offers, "I think we bring out the worst in each other."

She can't help it; a laugh escapes her. "Hardly. That was the first time I tried what I did, and you - well, I didn't know shadow travel could be used that way."

"It was an experiment," Nico admits. "It's good that we figured it out." He heaves himself to his feet, leaning on his sword, and staggers over to Thalia. He extends a hand to her, which she takes, and pulls her up. She's reminded - again - that he's a lot stronger than he looks.

He retrieves his jacket from where it fell on the floor, and shrugs it on. Thalia accepts her knife back from him, and they start towards the door.

The door, which is at that moment kicked down. Thalia and Nico face an anxious crowd of Hunters and demigods, led by Coach Hedge, baseball bat at the ready. She really doesn't know why Chiron thought it was a good idea to let the satyr come on this quest.

Percy pushes past all of them, Annabeth following determinedly. She can see the worry in his green eyes. The Hunters follow, and then more slowly, the demigods. Jason hesitates, gauging the danger level in the room.

"I'm fine," she says loudly, forestalling all questions. She glances at Nico and amends it to, "We're fine." Percy studies them, not fully convinced, but willing to take her word for it.

"What did you do?" Jason asks, eyeing her speculatively. "I sensed you drawing the ship's energy."

"So did I," mutters Leo grumpily, and as he comes further into the room, catches sight of the massive char mark she left on the ceiling. "Aw, what the hell did you do in here?"

"Sorry," she says, but can't help adding, "Nico and I were playing with lightning."

"I wasn't," Nico protests, but it's lost in the general murmur of sudden interest.

Eliza from her Hunters catches her eye, expressing silent concern. Thalia gives her a slight nod. She knows she'll be getting it from the Hunters later about taking unplanned-for risks.

Then she freezes, caught by a shot of piercing, icy pain from her hands, strong enough that she bites her tongue to keep from crying out. A discreet glance at the backs of her hands shows veins traced in black, a stark contrast from the glowing white they had been. Pain like that from a burn begins to radiate from them.

At her side, Nico stumbles and almost falls. Instinctively, she catches him, and then wants to howl with the blast of pain that comes with moving her arm so quickly. Jason is at her side in an instant, and Hazel comes round to support Nico. All in the room draw closer to them, and Percy says mildly, "You pulled too much power."

"I've summoned lightning before," Thalia grits out. Gods, the _pain!_ It feels like the muscles in her body are too-tight wires that will snap if she tries to move.

"Not in this way," Annabeth points out. "I think you were holding the energy in your body this time, instead of just redirecting it. Mortal bodies aren't made for that."

She looks at Nico. "I don't know what you did, but I'm guessing you were using your powers in a way you haven't before." Nico nods. She wonders if he realizes, like her, that this is the closest they've gotten to the old Percy and Annabeth since she came. Percy is worried about them, and Annabeth is analysing the situation, and all in all she's so glad to see them like this and not shaking and incoherent that she can almost ignore the pain shooting through her body. _Almost._

A bird swoops into the stables, clutching two foil-wrapped squares of ambrosia in its talons. In a flash, it transforms into Frank Zhang, and he hands them a square each. Hazel flashes him a smile as Thalia fumbles with the foil.

Without a word, Annabeth takes the ambrosia from Thalia's clumsy fingers and unwraps it. Thalia accepts it back gratefully, letting the godly food melt in her mouth. The pain numbs and a curious tickling sensation spreads under her skin. Watching her skin, she can see her veins fade back to a normal colour.

"Thanks, Frank," she croaks, and he smiles. "Not a problem, miss."

"You should get some fresh air," Jason orders tersely. Thalia catches Leo rolling his eyes where he thinks Jason can't see him.

All the same, they all troop up the stairs and up to the upper deck, where Percy perks up at the smell of the sea. Jason doesn't even wait for everyone to gather before he turns on Thalia.

"What were you thinking?" He demands. "You could've been killed!"

Thalia swallows down the roar of anger shooting up in her chest and takes a deep breath. "I think I know my limits a damn sight better than you do, brother."

"You could've died down there." Jason's voice is suddenly a lot quieter, in the way rivers that freeze over in winter are quieter, and icy, and harbouring a deep undercurrent of rage.

She speaks without thinking. "Then that would've been my decision to make."

He steps up to her, close enough that she feels his warm breath on her face, close enough that his hands encircle her forearms, hot and heavy. "That is _not_ your decision to make," he snarls. "You don't have the right to make that kind of choice, Thalia, not when it means leaving us behind!"

She grasps it: he doesn't want to lose her. Not again. She lifts her eyes to his, and finds her resolution in the plain youth of his blue eyes.

" _Let go of me,"_ she growls, and when Jason releases her, backing away as if stung, she speaks louder, loud enough for all on deck to hear. "I think it damn well is my choice. I think you'll find that when you've given your life twice over to serving the gods that your death is one of the very few choices left to you so I am not _choosing to die_ , Jason, I am choosing to acknowledge that I have power over this, and if I get to choose when and where and how I die then I damn well _have that right!"_

Jason looks stunned. Percy regards her with a soft, sad expression. The Hunters flank her, left and right.

She continues, softer, trying to freeze the anger and push it down inside her, "I was _not going_ to die down there because I know my limits. And I was not going to die down there because I need to live to fight this war, and because I need to keep testing my powers, need to push them further than I ever have before, because we _cannot lose_. And I would rather die on a battlefield knowing I've given it my all than watch my friends _die_ around me because I didn't know the limit of my powers."

Annabeth makes a tiny, choked noise, and her hand flies to her throat and the camp necklace on its worn leather cord.

"We fought in the Battle of Manhattan," Eliza breaks in, the Hunter stepping forward til she's level with Thalia's shoulder. "I lost friends there, women I'd fought shoulder-to-shoulder with for dozens of years, who had had my back more times that I can remember, and Thalia is right. If I could've saved them by dying that day, you can be sure it would be them you'd be facing now, and they would be saying the exact same thing." She sighs. "The dead are past our reach. Would that I could reach back in time and save them. But I _cannot_. Their deaths are past, and set. Isn't that right, son of Hades?"

Nico nods slowly. His face betrays nothing as he echoes, "The dead are past our reach."

Eliza forges on. "Some say the Fates have decided all our deaths, that we but struggle futilely towards our own doom. But the Hunters believe differently. Mourn the dead. You cannot save them with regrets, but you can honour them by living. Mourn the dead, and protect the living."

 _You cannot save them with regrets_ , Thalia thinks, gazing at Percy. Ah, but how he struggles with the concept. Thalia regrets her hasty words _\- watch my friends_ die _around me because I didn't know the limit of my powers!_ Percy, so self-sacrificing, will take them as an accusation, she knows, even if they both know she didn't mean it that way. _You cannot save them with regrets_ , but oh, he will try, and he will blame himself for living while others are dead, just as he's likely been doing for a long, long time.

"I expect you all to do your best when you train with me," she says, quietly and gravely, and waits till Jason meets her eyes before she turns and walks away.

xxx

As she heads towards the back of the ship, Thalia hears the Hunters coming after her. Their footsteps are light and fast and familiar, peppered with the words that fly low and sharp between them. Eliza's voice rises above the rest, firm and clear, and soon only one pair of footsteps approaches Thalia where she stands at the very back of the ship, her arms resting on the cool metal of the ship's railing.

"I don't want you to do this to yourself," Eliza admits softly, distressed. Thalia shivers involuntarily at the bite of the wind and ventures, "What do you think it's like to fly?"

"Like a step away from a fall. Like being invincible."

Thalia thinks, _those two can go hand in hand,_ and remembers a boy with golden hair and a crooked smile.

She turns away from the railing, steps back from the view of sea glinting far, far below. A step takes her to Eliza's arms, warm and strong, and Thalia looks into the other woman's eyes, her resistance spilling out of her in a shuddering sigh.

"I didn't want to do that to him," she mutters. "I didn't want him to have to know that." Eliza waits, wrapping her arms around Thalia.

"He's so young," Thalia bursts out. "Gods, he's never felt that gods-damned despair, never had to make the choices we had to, and if the time comes, he'll have to put the quest ahead of his team and _it'll destroy him_. It's better that he _hate_ me than he die because he never knew that life would throw you under the bus again and again and again. Gods, I can't - he's so naive and alive, Eliza, what in Hades happened to us to make us like this -"

She's crying now, choking on her sobs, and Eliza holds her tight, stroking her spiky hair, and closing her eyes against her own gathering tears because _gods_ , too many things have happened to them and they both know why they're like this now, so sharp and pained with the taste of triumph lingering bittersweet in the mouth.

"We'll be alright," she whispers, breathing in the smell of Thalia's shampoo, thinking that she loves this girl who is so intent on protecting everyone, no matter the cost to herself. "We'll be alright."

xxx

Nico blinks as he materializes on the deck, flexing his fingers to make sure they all made it through the shadow-travel journey. He registers the cold wind on his face first, then the muffled, hiccupping sobs, and the low, determined, "We'll be alright," last of all.

He turns, and meets the eyes of a Hunter, her arms locked tight around a shaking Thalia. The Hunter doesn't move, but her eyes are dark and cool, with an understated yet irrepressible strength of will pushing through. The lines of her face harden; she dares Nico silently to judge.

But he just looks on, some nameless and faint melancholy rising in him like mist, and nods to her, stepping back into the shadows and melting away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note at the end, and some long-overdue apologies.**

It's the middle of the night and Thalia is well and truly asleep when the alarm bells go off and she tumbles out of bed in shock.

"Sweet Olympus," she grumbles. The Hunters around her are already up and strapping on weapons, and Ila whacks at the light switch with three daggers in her hand.

"Quiver," Eliza shouts, and throws Thalia's over. She grunts her thanks and wedges the strap in her teeth, hands on the bow in front of her.

"Bow," she announces, voice almost bored from all the times they've practiced this, and a hand plucks it out of her grasp. Thalia sets to work on another one, listening to the Hunters preparing around her.

Warm hands straps a dagger to her right thigh and Thalia passes off another bow. "Arms up," Eliza says tersely, yanking a vest over Thalia's head and cinching it tight.

She fumbles a bowstring and curses. There's a click in her ear as her earpiece comes online.

"Bow," she says, hands working on autopilot, and tosses it to her left. "I've got the night vision goggles," Ila announces in her ear, and clicks them onto the attachment on Thalia's hood.

"Belt," Molly shouts, tossing it through the air, and someone slams Thalia's Mace can into its pouch. "Bow," Thalia reports, shoves it in the general direction of Ila, and picks up the last one.

"Time?"

"Two and a half minutes."

"Too slow." Thalia finishes stringing the last bow and stands, feeling the boots snug on her feet. "Let's go."

x

"Why is it always serpents?" Percy asks no one in particular, and Annabeth shrugs.

"I want to stay close to the steering in case Leo gets knocked out," she shouts over the din, so Percy gauges the distance, glares at the serpent, and shouts, "Got your back, Wise Girl."

The good thing about serpents is that really, they generally only have one head and one tail. No paws to come flying out of nowhere, no inconveniently opening wings, and perhaps best of all, they don't come in packs.

Most don't speak, either, but-

The serpent rears up, muscles shifting under its scaly hide, swaying on its belly as it tries to stay upright.

"Maybe it's drunk," Leo suggests hopefully.

" _Jacksssssonnnnn,"_ the serpent hisses, the angry red of its tongue darting in and out of sight behind aggressively steaming teeth. _"Chaseeeeee."_

Thalia shoves Percy behind her and signals a couple of the Hunters towards Annabeth. "What do you want with them?"

The serpent gurgles, swaying more wildly from side to side. "Don't strain yourself," Percy mutters, and steps out beside Thalia. "What do you want with us?"

The serpent dips its head a little, tilts it to one side and focuses on Percy with all of its malevolent gray eyes. _"Outtttttt."_

"Yes," Percy shouts back, throwing his hands in the air. It feels good, in a way, to be in battle, to have the strain and activity of it keep him focused in the moment. "We made it out of Tartarus. What, you want an interview for _Monsters Monthly?"_

The serpent's tongue flicks out of its mouth. _"Shouuuuuuld be deaaaad."_

"Yeah, well, enough have tried." Out of the corner of his eye, Percy sees Annabeth reach Leo and start whispering in his ear. _Keep it talking._

" _No."_ The serpent wheels its head from Percy to Nico and back again, poison dripping almost absent-mindedly from its jaws and etching streaks on the deck. Leo makes an unhappy noise.

Percy moves closer. "You want to kill me? Go ahead and try!" Anger flashes through him, sudden and blinding, and he stands straighter, arms loose by his sides. Riptide's tip hovers just off the deck. "Go ahead and try," he challenges, softer this time, voice laced with disdain and certainty.

" _Your life was stolen,"_ the serpent says, shortly, snapping the words off, and hisses at Nico. _"Hadesssss' child."_

Nico is beside him then, Stygian iron steady in his hands and something deadly cold in his eyes. "Not one more word," he warns, and drops his voice. "Percy. I'll explain later."

"I trust you," Percy says quietly, and means it. Something drops empty in Nico's eyes, though, and for a split second before he turns back to the serpent he looks absolutely wretched.

Percy glances at Annabeth, sees Leo pass her two tiny bronze spheres, and she gives Percy a tiny nod.

"Hey, old Snakeface," Percy shouts, waving Riptide around. "Wanna know how we got out of Tartarus?"

" _No neeeeeeed_ ," the serpent decides after a contemplative moment, and lunges. Nico meets it halfway, blade skittering off the thick-scaled jaw, and rolls where he falls onto the deck. Five silver arrows disappear down the serpent's gullet, and Percy charges forward, sheathing Riptide at the last minute and grabbing onto the serpent's hide.

Two bronze spheres come arcing towards him and yellow smoke explodes around the serpent's head with a quiet _pfft_. The serpent rears up and whips its head back, screeching. Poison hisses where it hits the smoke.

"Not so fast," Percy mutters, and begins to climb. The serpent twists its neck and he catches sight of Annabeth, hands stained with yellow dye, running towards the beast. She looks up at him and mouths, _keep going._

 _Not an amateur_ , he mouths back, unable to help himself, and an exasperated half-smile flickers on her face. An arrow speeds past his head, trailing silver cable, and wedges itself in the crest at the back of the serpent's head. "Go!" Thalia shouts at him.

The smoke is thick and odourless around him when he gets to the head, and he's groping around in his pocket for Riptide when the serpent speaks.

" _Jacksssssonnn."_ It's low, meant for the two of them, and it bounces around in the smoke until it sounds like it's coming at him from all directions.

" _I heard you left some people behinnnd in the pit."_

Percy freezes cold, one hand closing on Riptide. All he can see is yellow and the slender silver thread beneath his fingers. And Damasen's face. Damasen's gritted teeth as he rode into battle against his father, lance leveled and the drakon roaring beneath him.

" _I heard you made friendsssss with a giannnnnnt and a Titannn, Jacksssssson."_

His fingers tense around the thread, pull it crooked and twist the metal against his skin. Bob, wild silver hair and gentle hands, cleaning liquid sloshing in his spray bottle, Bob, _tell the stars-_ , Bob hoisting a skeleton cat onto his shoulder-

The serpent hisses, vicious, and smug when it adds, " _I hear they're still sufffffering, Jackssssson."_

It whirls beneath him, bucks and snaps, and the line is torn from Percy's grip and he lands hard, the impact slamming the air out of him. "Percy!" someone yells.

"'m fine!" he shouts back, and groans as he rolls over and starts to stand. Gods, there's not enough meat on his bones to take falls like that. "Watch your eyes!" Thalia orders, and he flinches away as thunder cracks over the ship. Across the deck, the serpent screams.

"Percy!" Jason lands next to him, blond hair stained messy crimson from a slash at his hairline. Keen blue eyes track the serpent as he pulls Percy to his feet.

"Thanks," Percy grunts, and turns to survey the battle. Leo is putting together something by the control board, crouched by Festus, the bronze dragon wheeling frantically from side to side as it spews fire at the serpent.

Gorilla-Frank is latched firmly onto the serpent's neck just below its head, his bodyweight slowing it down not inconsiderably. The Hunters are circling, looking for a vulnerability; Nico appears out of the shadows and grabs Hazel away a second before the serpent's jaws clamp shut on what is now empty air and shadow.

Then it clicks in Percy's head; the disjointedness of the situation. The problem, he realises as he watches the Hunters move fluidly, signaling one another, is that they're not a _team_. He and Annabeth are, and Nico is filling in cracks very well, and the Hunters are all working as one, but the rest are patchy. Gaea is probably laughing at them all.

No time for that now. "Grab hold of something and _hang on!"_ Percy shouts over the din, praying that everyone can hear him, and centres himself and calls to the sea roiling beneath them and _pulls_.

The sea surges up to his call and tips the ship to one side, seawater flowing over the deck. The serpent loses its balance, all eyes widening, and its heavy body slams down and flips over to fetch up with a resounding crash against the railing. Silver arrows fall like rain, flying unerringly into the serpent's eyes and wedging themselves in the soft flesh inside its mouth; Leo lobs an explosive down its throat and a moment later, black smoke billows into the air.

Percy can hear Jason shouting "Good job!" but has no idea who it's for; the serpent is not finished yet. It slaps its tail against the deck as it tries to rise; blinded and muted, air hissing grotesquely through the holes in whatever used to pass as its vocal cords.

Eyes weeping streams of monster dust spin wildly in its broad-skulled head; it flicks its tongue out to taste the air, stills while it comes to a decision- Percy sees it the same instant Annabeth does, sees her mouth open as she screams _"No!"_ , hears himself screaming, too, too late and too far away, and something is _ripping_ from Thalia, a howl that is horrified and agonized and sounding like her heart is tearing out of her chest, and the serpent lunges-

The Hunter pulls herself backwards desperately; the tip of her bow snags on the planking, and the serpent's jaws snap shut with a neat _click_ , and just like that when it pulls away its trailing blood and flesh and Thalia's scream is soaring high and bloody, vengeance and loss and pure, striking rage-

The serpent raises its head high again, gloating, and the Hunter is there, crumpled on the deck with one leg just _gone_ beneath the knee, losing blood rapidly; behind Percy, he can hear low and vicious swearing; Jason is running across the deck, feet falling hard and desperation in his face-

Thalia is uncontrollable; the Hunters of Artemis have a hell of a reputation for a reason, and she is their leader, and a daughter of Zeus besides; lightning is flaring up and down her armour and she's fighting savagely with no regard for herself, not realizing or perhaps just not _caring_ that rushing the serpent from her position would be suicide - Annabeth is racing towards her, racing to help Jason, who has tackled Thalia to the ground, and the serpent has reared up, about to strike again-

On the deck, the fallen Hunter stretches one hand towards Thalia, eyes full of tears, blood on her teeth and she's murmuring something, a prayer to Artemis, forming the words blindly, and when Thalia's eyes lock onto hers she stops mid-phrase and smiles through the pain, mouths _Thalia_ and something sweeter, and Percy can finally make out what Thalia is screaming, screaming _No_ and _Not her_ and _Please for all the gods' sake_ and _Please_ -

 _Please-_

The serpent gurgles hideous victory and Percy can't take it, can't take its blind malevolent gaze and the way its jaws gape open for that final triumph, and he sees Annabeth's gray eyes, sees all he would do anything to protect, sees the fury and sees her grip breaking as she hangs on to Thalia, sees the loss cresting in her eyes-

Thalia is crashing to her knees, still trying to move forward, dragging Annabeth and her brother with her, screaming, and the tears are coursing down her cheeks and-

The serpent twists its head to face Percy and slowly, deliberately dips its head, and Thalia _screams_ and Percy breaks, all the chains snapping away, and he pulls at the sea, pulls at his father's kingdom, opens himself up to that cold and massive power and feels the ancient writhing ocean flood into him and he rises, never more powerful, never more his father's son, half-Greek god and so much more than human, primal and endlessly powerful only now he's torn out his leash-

He throws out one hand and the serpent _snaps_ back, straining against him, only he's got a hold of it by the neck now, by the poison running one thick vein next to its blood, and he can feel every inch of the monster by the blood running through its veins and he concentrates and one giant hand rises up out of the ocean and holds the serpent high, holds it wriggling like a worm and in a voice that isn't his he can hear himself asking Thalia if she wants the killing shot.

The other demigods are staring, staring at him, frozen still where they stand but Thalia rises steady and nocks a single silver arrow and takes aim and inclines her head every so slightly to Percy.

When she fires lightning is crackling up and down the bolt; she lowers the bow, sure and slow, and calls on Lady Artemis, Mistress of the Hunt, to guide her arrow, and like none of the arrows have before this punches straight through the roof of the serpent's mouth and slides through the top of its head, carves a straight line through its brain and kills it stone dead: and Percy is left holding a handful of glittering monster dust, floating through the water like so much sand.

Just like that it's dead, gone, and Thalia is on her knees again, by her Hunter's side, bow thrown to one side and her hands slick, bloody, there's _so much blood_ -

x

Eliza's leg is bleeding, bleeding, shattered into a mess three inches below the knee, blood and bone and mangled flesh already turning black from poison.

Ila shoves ambrosia into her mouth and pours nectar liberally after; Thalia is tying off a tourniquet with steady hands; inside her ribs, her heart is shaking and pounding and screaming, but Thalia Grace has a _job_ to do right now and Tartarus can take her if she fails.

"Apollo, god of healing, hear my prayer."

Eliza cries out, jerking against Thalia's hands, and Ila throws herself flat on the deck, holds her down, growls both fierce orders and soft angry pleas, voice catching on the words and echoing jarringly in the thick bloody air, the scent filling everything Thalia can breathe.

"Artemis whom I serve, this day and every day, hear my prayer."

There's still blood coming out, some red, some thickened with poison, and Thalia sends up a prayer to whoever watches out for mad and risky and hellishly unlikely-to-succeed plans, mutters, "This could be a _stupid_ waste, gods help me," and tips out her nectar flask onto the mess of the wound.

" _Thalia,"_ someone says, worried-

"Stay away," she snarls, scarcely recognising her own voice, twisted with rage and choked with pain.

"Apollo," she growls, commanding, hands steady on Eliza's leg, "god of healing."

"Artemis," Ila prays beside her, "my lady. She has served you loyally and with great courage." And her voice breaks, and she adds, " _please. Help_ her. _"_

And Thalia calls to her gods, those she has gone to the very edge of the grave for time and time again, and she waits, and there is nothing, nothing from Olympus or Delos or from the demigods huddled around them. Nothing but blood and poison and Eliza growing weaker beneath Thalia's hands, and nothing to be done except for-

"Hades," she hisses, voice dark and low, "if you take her now I will march down to the Underworld and I will _carry her back_ myself."

"You won't be alone," someone promises behind her, and it's Annabeth, that familiar voice shaking as she swears to walk right _back_ into hell, and it's for _her_ , for Thalia and a girl she's met exactly twice.

"I'm coming," Percy adds, and when she glances over her shoulder he's hanging on grimly to Annabeth, looking like he can barely stand, but those sea-green eyes meet hers, unwavering.

"So am I," Piper McLean says quietly. When Thalia glances at her, she smiles a little, humourless. "I'm a child of Aphrodite. You think I'm not coming along on a quest like this?"

Thalia looks away from the knowledge in Piper's eyes; the daughter of Aphrodite looks both powerful and older than she is, and it's unnerving.

"If you're going down to the Underworld, there's no way you're going without me." That's Nico, something wild and mad in his eyes and calm forced in every line of his body.

Ila glances up at Thalia, grins with blood spattering her teeth and smudged on her cheeks, right hand red up to the elbow. "You have to ask?" and it's sharp and her voice is rough, but the tone is sarcastic and familiar and reassuring, and the trust is woven into it and something eases in Thalia's chest.

"Lord Hades," she says quietly, one hand finding Eliza's and holding tight. "Some of the greatest demigods of this generation are prepared to drag this Hunter back from the Underworld if need be."

"Thanatos," Percy says loudly to the empty air. "We freed you, and we did your job for you, closing the Doors of Death. You owe us twice over, and I'm calling in a favour. _Let her go."_

"For gods' sake, it's _love_ ," Piper grumbles. "Aphrodite. Mom. Come on."

"She's still a kid," Ila snarls, voice raw and breaking. "She'd be in uni if she was mortal. She'd be _twenty-two_ , and right now she's _dying_ in your war."

"Let her go, come on," Thalia whispers, running her hand along Eliza's face. The Hunter tries to smile, bloody lips parting. _"Thalia,"_ she breathes, barely audible. "Thalia."

"Don't leave me," Thalia begs, voice going very small. "Please, El, please _."_

"Not… planning to," she chokes out, but her grip is slackening in Thalia's and every breath is laboured, poison leaching the colour from her face and her lips going cold gray. She coughs, the sound tearing from her throat, and Thalia reads in her eyes a silent message; regret and pain and a thousand thrumming emotions rich in her dark eyes.

"I love you," Thalia says, very softly and very gently, and presses a kiss to Eliza's lips. "I always will, El. I love you."

El smiles, heartbreakingly lovely, blood spilling on her skin and sticking strands of her dark hair together, and mouths _I love you_.

Then there's a sudden flash, golden and blinding, so bright Thalia swears and reels back, one hand flying up to protect her face, and El is screaming, her hand snapping tight around Thalia's, and a split second later when the light has disappeared, as abruptly as it came, she leans forward and sees golden sparks fizzing away at El's leg. The nectar she poured is hissing and steaming and cleaning off the wound, enveloping pockets of poison in little bursts of flame, and El is sobbing, tears sliding down her face, sobbing and gasping in pain, and Thalia realizes she's doing it too, crying, and she kisses El again, again and again, their tears mixing, copper and salt on her tongue.

"Thank you, Olympus, thank you," Thalia prays, not knowing who she's addressing but saying it anyway; she kisses El again, whispers, " _I love you_ ," and prays, fervently. " _Thank_ you, Olympus."

x

"Hey," Ila says finally, twelve hours later, entering the sickbay. "Thalia."

Her leader doesn't turn to look at her, and her voice is hard and snappy when she warns, "If you're going to tell me to back off, Ila, you'd better reconsider."

"I'm not saying back off, Thalia." Ila hesitates, considers her options, and then plunges right in. "We're considering pulling you from the duty roster."

" _What?!"_

Ila carefully composes her neutral face and continues. "Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are willing to return to duty, so they're back on and you can stay off."

"They're not ready for that." Thalia's voice sharpens to a razor's edge. "And I don't need _time off_ , Ila. I'm fine, for gods' sake."

"Yeah?" She doesn't need to add anger to her voice, it's there already, bubbling up with the hurt. "They're willing to try, Thalia. It took all they had and more, fighting up there today, you think I didn't see it? But they're trying, they're _fighting._ And what the hell is with you? I'm _fine?_ Look at yourself, Thalia!" She's not shouting, not yet, but her voice is rising, buoyed up by anger and desperation.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Thalia demands, standing, and Ila can finally see how wild her eyes are, how close she is to the edge.

"Look at yourself," she implores, quieter this time. "You're covered in blood. You've got injuries that will get infected. They need treatment. You haven't slept, haven't washed your face or your hands, you haven't eaten. I don't think you've talked to anyone since you got in here."

Thalia considers that, face unreadable.

"El would say the same thing," Ila urges. "Artemis too. You need to take care of yourself, Thalia, or you can't take care of us."

"I…" Thalia stops, struggling, one hand squeezing hard on the chair by her side. "I can't." She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, tiny tears glisten angrily on her lashes. "Underworld take me."

"It's affecting the way you do your duty," Ila says, a statement and not a question.

Thalia just nods, wordless, sighing as the fight drains out of her. "You did this on purpose," she accuses, but she sounds exhausted, no fire behind the words, only a queer sort of pride.

Ila smiles slightly. "We haven't discussed the duty roster at all, Thalia. I haven't spoken to Percy Jackson or Annabeth Chase, or anyone except your brother, actually."

"Jason," says Thalia, voice determinedly flat, like she's trying to keep it from shaking, and looks away.

"Oh, Thalia," Ila murmurs, and gathers the younger woman up in a tight hug. She hums low in her throat, soothing, and doesn't bother with words. Thalia lets out a noiseless sob, face pressing hard against the rough silver material of Ila's armour, and is quietly, endlessly grateful.

x

"Seaweed Brain," Annabeth demands, striding across the deck. Leo coughs and shuffles to the other side of the ship.

Percy turns immediately. "Yeah, Wise Girl?'

Annabeth jabs him in the chest as soon as she gets close enough. "Ow," he protests, more out of reflex than anything else.

"Don't think I didn't see you, Percy. After you came back down onto the deck, when you let go of all that water."

Percy's eyes go wide and he blinks rapidly, mouth hanging open a little. "I- what?"

Annabeth steps closer, gray eyes keen and hard. "You were afraid, Percy."

"Um," says Percy intelligently. Annabeth's eyes soften, just a little.

"Seaweed Brain," she says quietly. "I know you. I've seen you scared. But you've never been scared like _that._ Percy, you were afraid of yourself."

He looks away, out across the sea, feeling power trembling in his hands. It's easier to tell Annabeth this when he isn't looking at her.

"Yeah," he says, and then, "yeah," again.

He takes a breath. "Some days I think Tartarus broke something in me," he admits, voice unsteady. "It was easier down there. I knew we had to get out, and that whatever I did - whoever I killed - it was to get us out, and that was okay. I could deal with that."

Annabeth puts her hand on his back, on the spot where so long ago he'd anchored himself to life with the thought of her. It tingles.

"Up here," Percy says, voice hoarse, "up here it's harder to justify that. People died for me, for us, and their names stack up. I did terrible things in that pit and I know I'd do them again in an instant if it meant saving you." He feels more than hears her long quiet breath, and turns to face those gray eyes.

"What if it's too much?" he asks, so softly it feels like they're the only two people in the world. "What if I lose myself, and I lose control, and-" his hand flexes involuntarily, and the ship tilts and begins to power through the waves, the water driving it relentlessly forward. Percy closes his hand into a fist, and the ship slows. He tries to smile.

"70% of the earth is covered in water, Wise Girl. What happens then?"

"First of all," Annabeth says, "you wouldn't lose control. You've got too much kindness for that, Seaweed Brain. You love the world too much to ever give up." She steps closer still, that one hand still on his back, on that point he still thinks of as his Achilles' heel, and says, "Secondly, it's an insult you'd even think I'd let you walk off that cliff, Seaweed Brain. I'm not letting that happen to you."

"What if-" Percy says, helpless. "What if." The silence takes all the words he can't say and amplifies them a hundredfold.

"Percy," Annabeth says, calm, and he centres himself on her, on her steady voice, on her strong hands. "I've got your back. I've got you."

He leans his forehead on hers and she feels the tension bleed out of him, feels him relax for the first time since they clawed their way out of Tartarus.

"I've got your back, Seaweed Brain," she says, steady and sure. "I've got your back."

 **Hey, guys. It's been far too long since I last updated - I'll be grateful if any of you are still hanging around. I'd like to say life got in the way of this and that would be partially true, but also responsible is my sort of falling off the PJO bandwagon, as it were. I've drifted away from a few fandoms this past year. Thank you, again, for the favourites, the follows, and the comments; you may not think a few lines is much but sometimes it was the only thing keeping this story alive, and I am grateful.**

 **Looking at this story from the beginning, I can see where I've improved as a writer - it's quite humbling to see what's changed over two years. I don't want to abandon this fic, but neither can I promise that it will be continued any time soon. I will definitely keep a document open, and we'll see where it goes. Feel free to PM me should you like an update - an update on the update, as it were.**

 **Lastly, I am not an amputee, but I am delving into research now and hope to represent El's struggle/recovery over the coming chapters as accurately as possible. When said chapters are out, please don't hesitate to tell me if/where I screwed up; I want to do my best by all of you.**

 **Happy Holidays!**


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